Tag Archive: Life


Glitter Tits

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I have done a thing. Being a volunteer at a pop culture conventions, was an awesome part of my life for a bunch of years. Through that time I made some incredible friends, had some amazing experiences and some not so great ones.

This year I had to make the choice to walk away from this part of my life. I kind of knew it was coming but wasn’t ready when it did. To help me get through I started to write down some of my memories.

This little book, mini book if you will, is the culmination of that. I don’t mention celebrity names, I don’t mention any names except mine. I don’t think it makes that much difference, the stories are still great, or not so great as a few of them are. And there are a few ‘what were you thinking’ moments of mine that made the cut, so feel free to laugh with me.

If you are a pop-culture convention goer, or fan, please buy it, read it – my little love letter to this awesome scene. Share the link with your friends, boost the signal. I love this scene and know there are still experiences I want to have.

 

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Holidays

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I am currently on leave from work and I am busy, but in a way I like to be. I am writing. I have set myself various goals for these weeks off and I aim to be productive.

So many people were asking what my holiday plans were and then wondered if I wouldn’t get bored being as I’m not going anywhere this time.

Thing is for the last little while all I have really wanted to do is write. I have a novella length project that I’ve just finished the main edit on and it will hopefully be published before the holidays are done. I have also gotten my edits back from my editor and after a pain in my butt stuff around by my cover artist, I have commissioned a new artist and will hopefully have that soon, so Book three in the Oparna Legacy can be published.

Also my faith has hit the forefront of my life again and I have a project tied into that which I plan on making substantial headway on during this time off.

Then of course there is the new series I have started working on as well, an urban paranormal crime series that I think will be kind of fun.

So that’s it for my holiday plans and I can’t help but think my 6 and a bit weeks leave isn’t going to be anywhere near long enough for me to get all the writing done that I want to do.

Tough Times, Tough Decisions.

The start of this year has been tough.

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Unexpected expenses, but that’s life, just work more to deal with them. Broken promises, disappointing but life goes on. the weight of additional expectations, but you adjust and step up to the new mark.

Then in the space of less than two weeks I lost one of my regular coping mechanisms and one of my work colleagues committed suicide. Two separate events, both having a profound affect on me.

Life isn’t always easy to compartmentalise and as much as I’d like to treat these things as two completely separate events, from a mental health perspective, that’s not necessarily how it works. They are, by virtue of the fact I experienced both, inextricably linked.

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I have always been open about my own battles with depression and my history of self-harm. I also have people both incredibly close to me and in my wider circle of friends that struggle with/deal with depression and anxiety on a daily basis.

But I also see myself as a strong person. Someone who will stand up for myself, my family, my friends and any underdog who doesn’t seem capable of fighting for themselves. Here though is where I get tripped by one of the quirks of my brain. Because I will fight for others, sometimes I expect those others to fight for me. Why? When they won’t even stand for themselves? I have no idea. It makes no logical sense. That is the way it is though and when they don’t, the little voice in the back of my brain pipes up. ‘Cleary you don’t mean that much to them. Why do you think anyone cares what you are going through?’ Some of you will know that voice I speak of.

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Again logically I know my inner dialogue lies. Knowing that doesn’t stop the room closing in, the clouds blocking out the light, or the quicksand pulling me emotionally down.

Here is where coping mechanisms come in. I run, walk, hit something – any kind of solitary workout. I get lost in a book. Sometimes I just repeat to myself while I am lying there, ‘this too shall pass.’

I have something else though. I have people around me I can reach out to. People who understand, to the limit you can understand, the fucked up nature my headspace.

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Which brings me to my work colleague and their very final actions.

I work in an incredibly high stress job. The number of suicides is staggering. We all know it. We know the mental health stats. We know there are people, even professionals, we can talk to. And yes I have availed myself of that service.

Still this person, this bright shining star, in possession of a uniques and larger than life personality was clearly suffering.

Why? I think it’s probably the biggest question after something like this. Why didn’t they ask for help? Why did they isolate themselves? Also what the fuck we’re they thinking? I wanted to be so angry with her. We weren’t the closest but I still would’ve been there if she’d asked. And I know she had people close to her who are wondering why didn’t she just reach out to me?

The answer is, I don’t know. I don’t know what she was thinking. I don’t know why she didn’t reach out. I don’t know if or why she thought she wasn’t worth helping.

I don know her actions have had a rippling affect on those who’s lives crossed with hers. I do know she will be sorely missed. And I do know thinking about it still makes me cry.

Helping-Hand

And so I will say it again, as I have before, if you are struggling for any reason, reach out. Do I need to say it again? Reach out. I will say it as often as I need to. Reach out. You are never alone. There are no easy fixes or quick answers, but there are people who would hate for you to not be in their lives anymore.

Of course things sometimes aren’t that simple. Sometimes the people you expect to support you don’t. For what ever reason. Which brings me to point two, but before I get there, remember don’t give up and don’t believe the lies. One set back isn’t the end of things.

Now this second thing.

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I’ve already talked about coping mechanisms. We all have them. I attended a specific event several times a year as a way of de-stressing. It gave me a sense of belonging, a place to let go and be me. In my regular role, it was a place I thought I was useful and quite frankly, good at. I made heaps of friends, had problems I could solve and then bitch about, and fun moments.

Things though have been changing and I don’t claim to understand why. This last week and a bit though, things have come to a head. I know I was usually in a fortunate position, but I felt I’d worked for it and earned it. It seems this was not the case.

For reasons I do not know I was removed from that position and put somewhere I didn’t want to be. Oh don’t get me wrong, it is another position other people desperately want to be, but not me. I’d done it once because I was told I had to, sure it wasn’t exactly the same but it was similar, and it broke me. Plain and simple I had a mini breakdown.

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I told them this when the move came up this year and I was told that’s terrible, what can we do to help, and where else would you like to be? I  just wanted to go back to my comfort zone, but it seems this was not an option. So my choice was, do something I was pretty certain wouldn’t end well for me, or go into another area to learn something I didn’t want to learn and be isolated from the very people I had gone to see.

I didn’t want to make this choice. I though long and hard about the decision I ended up making. I cried (yes I am stupidly emotional at times, but I’m hardly the only one and I don’t care). I had many internal debates. I overthought. My stress levels went up. The clouds began to close in.

In the end I knew my initial gut reaction was the one I’d have to go with. I had to walk away.

deucesNow this is something I have devoted hundreds of hours of my life and thousands of my dollars on, and I knew I had to walk away.

Support I expected didn’t come.

I don’t know all of what is going on behind the scenes, or in other people’s lives. I still don’t know why I had to make this decision. I just knew I was hurting and it didn’t seem to matter.

Then something happened.

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Support came from unexpected places. Sometimes it’s the people you don’t expect that see things, they see the struggle and understand.

We tell ourselves we should just get over things, deal with things or suck it up. Really that’s not what we need at all. Oh absolutely there are times when those things are all completely valid pieces of advice, but not always.

Sometimes what we need is someone to say – I’m here, what do you need?

The answer isn’t the same for everyone. It could be; ice-cream, a shared laugh, company, a hug or even nothing – because you’ve already done it and I no longer feel alone.

I am very introverted by nature. I love the quiet, home and not being around people, though I can certainly do the opposite. I know though that life is never something we get through alone.

So one door shuts and I’ll have to find another door to open. The ache of the losses will pass and life continues on it’s sometimes not so merry adventure.

For the love of everything, please don’t be afraid to reach for help, it’s there. I know it is. Just maybe not where you thought it would be.

Perseverance

Sometimes I wonder why. Then I scoff at myself because I know why. I write because I have to, there are ideas floating, sometimes churning around in my head that have to be let out. That want and demand a life of their own, silly as that may sound.

The other day I was in a book store and I was looking at all these new titles that I thought I wouldn’t mind checking out even though my bank account isn’t that friendly and I wondered what I was playing at thinking myself an author. I am one though. I am also published, sure I haven’t cracked the traditional market but does that make me any less an author? I don’t think it does. I work incredibly hard on my books, I write, I edit, I re-edit and I pay for a professional edit. This whole process takes massive amounts of time, mind space and effort, so I guess I shouldn’t really question whether I am an author.

Yes I wish I could see my books on a shelf, and maybe one day that will be a thing. For now though I just have to persevere with what I do, slog through the daily effort of juggling a full time job, a family and writing, in the hope that one day I will earn the break I’m working towards.

Power of the Creative

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A couple of days ago I woke to a social media feed filled with messages about what Stan Lee had meant to people from all over. I too added my voice to this. The worlds and characters he gave us spoke to so many and allowed many to realise they aren’t alone, that they can dream and achieve and that they should never let the naysayers have the last say.

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Stan is not the only person to speak to the heart of people. I have just spent another fortnight volunteering at a pop culture convention and it seems to me that society needs its creatives for it is they who can speak to the heart of matters more freely than others can bring themselves to. It is the creatives who nuture hope and dreams in those of us who feel we don’t quite fit in with what  society says is acceptable.

Yes I am fortunate that I have met many actors whose work I admire but ultimately that is not the reason I do the conventions. My reason is family. Not blood family but family none the less.

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My vollie family and regular con attendees have given me a place I feel welcome. I know this is not a feeling that solely belongs to me. Often those of us who feel we don’t quite fit, function just fine in ‘normal life’, we go to work we get on with our lives but at home we hide in worlds that come from other people’s minds. 

Characters show things we go through and this tells us we can’t be the only person struggling or experiencing something. Characters told me it was alright for girls to be smart, to be heard, to fight, to not be limited by what others say is acceptable behaviour, and that it is okay to break the mold. They let me know that perfect is a crock and life is messy but to be embraced in a manner that is true to self.

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I sometimes wonder at the reactions of people when they meet the actors who play their favourite characters because I think surely it is the characters they love not the actors. I’ve never had the same visceral reactions that some fans have. (However I did have a total ‘ OMG that just happened moment’ when I was kissed by the gentleman who voices Optimus Prime – and it was more to do with the gentleman himself rather than me being a fan of the Transformers.) Even though I wonder I sort of understand, because when someone shows you that something is okay for you to feel or be, it is a powerful thing.

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Personally my attachment is to characters rather than anyone who portrays that character. My attachments are a visceral thing; I swear at them, cry and laugh with them or because of them, I draw back into their worlds when I need to comfort myself, I become thoroughly invested in their lives. My goal as a writer is to create characters that other people like, or even better love. When I write it feels as though my characters talk to me. I don’t plan when I write, my characters tell me where they want to go. They are my friends. It seems natural to me that characters have life, they need life to speak to others. I only hope that in the course of putting words to paper that I do them justice.

I hope you’ll buy my books (Becoming and Steps to Destiny) at Amazon, {the links are Au but you can buy they from any region} if you haven’t already, but even if you don’t, do yourself a favour and buy someone’s book, go meet a new character today, you might be surprised at the outcome.

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Being An Author

I guess I really am an author. I have two books published now and a third in editing stage.

I love the cover for my second book and the thanks for the art go to the amazing Mel Schwarz, and the graphics were done by the awesome Peter B.

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I’m pretty happy that the second one finally got out, later than what I’d hoped but what are you going to do, some times life simply doesn’t go according to plan. It will mean (hopefully) that the gap between two and three won’t be as long because the first draft for three is already finished.

Other huge things are happening for me I’m about to venture into the unknown. I’m going to speak at a conference. It’s not the first stage I’ve been on, not by a long shot but it is the first where the audience is made up of professionals expecting to hear from another professional. I believe I can do this but there are still occasional doubts. I had a moment the other week when I was thinking about the people I will be talking to and I wondered why I thought I could do do this as they are all grown up and the like. Then I realised I too am a grown up I just somehow seem to forget that about myself. What it is is that I don’t take myself as seriously as I seem to think these kind of professionals do. I guess I will find out.

Also on the writing front, I jumped out of bed this morning to write down another idea. It’s good to know I have enough ideas to keep me writing for a while yet, I only wish the need to work and pay bills didn’t interfere.

I know I haven’t got a proper handle on keeping regular with my blog updates, I really wish I was better at it, I used to be. Again though, life gets in the way and sometimes something has to give. For me it is this. Here’s hoping that I will get better at keeping this updated sometime soon.

Three Things

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A beautiful friend of mine has recently started a business pushing (sorry selling) make up. Now if you know much about me, you’ll know that make up is one of those things that is a very low priority in my life. I wear it on stage or for special occasions, I’m just too lazy to bother with that in my everyday. I’m not going to write here about my lack skill or disinterest in make up, what I am going to comment on is something I think is incredibly important – women’s self esteem.

Now my friend knows the women she has targeted, we’re nerdy, geeky and a few other fun descriptors, so she caters to that by running fun little competitions. Her interactive approach certainly dragged me in. But targeted marketing is not my topic.

What has driven me to write this post is one of the games she posted where it said: what would your warning label say and state three things you like about yourself. Can you guess which part sparked this blog post?

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The warning part turned out to be easy. Everyone can have a little fun with that. Turns out though that writing publitlythree things you like about yourself is somewhat more difficult.

Part way through writing my three things I started to feel guilty that I hadn’t written down anything about being a wife/mother or family related. I don’t know if its’ just me or women in general but so much of our identity is derived from others, at least when talking in a public forum. My family are hugely important to me and I’m incredibly happy with my life for the most part. Sure there are always things that aren’t perfect, but what is a perfect life and why would i want it anyway when I am clearly not perfect. That may be a whole other thought stream though, so back to my current topic.

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When I settled on my three things I’ll admit to being a little surprised that I could have written more, so I will use this opportunity to get into this a little more. This may seem a little self indulgent but it’s my post and I’m going to be unapologetic about it.

Things I like about myself:

My brain, it functions well. I read, think and love to learn.

My body, I have abs, I worked hard for them, I needed to as I’m in my 40’s, have had two kids and wasn’t blessed with a metabolism that means I can eat what I want. I am stronger and fitter now than i was in my skinnier, younger years. The problem is when I google my ideal weight, I am currently apparently over weight. Crap is what I say to that. If I got down to my ‘ideal’ weight, what I would lose is most of my muscle mass and I like being strong. Sure I wish the last o f my mummy tummy would go the heck away but I’m pretty damn proud of this body of mine otherwise.

As a person I’m proud of my determination, fierce loyalty and my work ethic. I am comfortable with the fact I am a complex creature who is basically an introvert. I love feeling capable and strong. I have a giggle when people say I’m scary and feel a little bemused when people call me inspiring. I enjoy my job, to the bemusement of most and I’m proud to say I’m a published author – though part of me is still a little disappointed I had to do it myself in the end. I know I don’t comfortably fit into the boxes society likes to use and I’m good with that. My friends are the ones who accept the many, sometimes broken layers, of who I am, abrasive edges and all.

Now to the point of this self indulgence. Introspection. It’s always good to acknowledge our strengths. Knowing what we like about ourselves can help us through the harder and darker moments of life, if we allow ourselves to embrace them.

This leads nicely to the second part of my thought process from that little game. Whilst the warning part was easy and many participated, more than a few didn’t write anything for this second part. I haven’t asked why this is but I do have a few speculations. When life isn’t perfect, or even good, it can be hard to see the positive to find the things we like. Most of us don’t like to toot our own trumpets because we are socially coerced into believing it is wrong, arrogant or something. Thirdly, sometimes we just don’t know how to answer that question, when taking a close look at ourselves it’s so much easier to see the flaws and things we don’t like.

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This is sad. Think about it. So much of what society pushes subliminally (and sometimes not that subtly) is that a successful woman is one who adheres to, or measures up against certain stereotypes and appearances. We are judged by how we fit into the boxes, not how we colour those boxes in. Women are still taught not to rock the boat, we still know that our success can be undercut by men – this is how Weinstein got away with what he did. We are shown pretty pictures and told, this is the ideal.

Well I’m going to call bullshit. Women are varied, and strong and flawed and more than capable in achieving whatever goals they set for themselves. Sometimes our own worst enemy is ourselves, we allow ourselves to quietly sit where society has placed us, we pick on other women who don’t fit that norm and thereby reinforce the crap. It is time we stopped doing that. It is time we embraced ourselves for the awesomeness  and individuality that is in all of us.

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After all this my point simply is, finding three things about ourselves that we like shouldn’t be hard, and certainly admitting and embracing them shouldn’t be shied away from. i challenge you to look deeply into yourself. Look at your perceived flaws from a different perspective (I’m not bossy or a bitch, I’m organised and focused, I get shit done). Look at yourself in a positive light, examine the things that make you you. The sum of your parts, good bad, indifferent, is what makes you interesting. It is what makes you not fit the mould and proves you are no Stepford woman. Look at your body and be proud. Look at your achievements and what you do well and take satisfaction in them. Look at your personality and shout about how awesome you are.

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There is an old Japanese custom where a broken item is repaired with gold, making it more beautiful because of it’s flaws. It is about time we allowed ourselves to embrace this.

I am flawed and I am awesome.

Shout it, believe it.

#MeToo

I nearly didn’t post that hash tag for a number of reasons but not because it wasn’t me. Mostly, or in a large part I would say it was because these days my version of calling you out is to dish what is thrown at me, right back at the person who dished it. You want to comment about my tits I will comment about your dick, or agree with you about how great they are and clearly let you know that they aren’t yours to play with and never will be, you get the idea. If you dish it out you’d better not whinge when I pitch it back. I do this because , at least in my mind, it levels the playing field and lets you know your words have no power over me. I will not as a general rule ignore it, I will not be quiet and let it ride with no rebuttal.

I want to break this down a little. I wasn’t a popular kid. I was teased a lot. I never really thought of it as bullying, but that’s what it was. In those days it was almost always verbal amongst girls or when you were a girl, things have changed a lot as far as that goes. As a result of that teasing I developed a coping mechanism – words. Often bigger words and smarter sentences so I could laugh to myself when the bullies responses missed the mark.

When I was younger the teasing was pretty universal, girls were as bad as the boys. As I got older girls/women somehow recognised their words had little effect or simply decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Boys/men seemed somewhat more oblivious or entitled. Even when I was married and watching my hubby at a gig, guys would approach me and ignore my words of ‘leave me alone’ and ‘I’m not interested’. One night I had to go as far as to tell the pest quite clearly that if he didn’t leave me alone I’d have the bouncers throw him out. His response was something along the lines of ‘bitch!’. I didn’t care about the insult, I owned it because I got what I wanted, to be left alone. The point is though that I shouldn’t have had to do that.

Here are just a few highlights of how this has affected me, it is by no means a complete or comprehensive list.

I was at work once when a co-worker put his hands on me, even after I told him I was happily married and not interested. I pushed him away and told him if he did it again I’d lay him out, or words to that effect, and I spent the rest of my shift making sure I was never alone with him. Again something I shouldn’t have had to do.

Working close in a bar one night, and a male patron tells a very heavily pregnant me, that he’d show me his dick if I let him get another drink. I’ve always wondered what the bouncer saw on my face that night because that patron was rushed out of the bar so quickly I don’t think he understood what was going on. A comment like that should never be acceptable.

Again working in a bar a young guy thought stalking me would be a fun idea. Nothing I said made a difference. What did make the difference was one of the men I worked with. He took him outside one night and five minutes later bought my stalker back in crying, to apologise to me. I never had another problem with that particular person.

As a little positive note, thank you for those men who have stood with me, or got out in front of me.

This kind of thing has been in my life from a very young age. I was incredibly fortunate, my mother paid attention. An off handed comment from me at about the age of 6 led my mother to believe my best friends brother had been inappropriate and she refused to allow me to be over at their place unsupervised. Personally I have no recollection of this but my mother certainly did.

When I started dating my now husband, his ‘best friend’ said to me ‘I won’t take you away from him’, like I was some object to be stolen without a will or a thought of my own. My response in this instance was to inform him I was in no way interested in him and if he tried I’d chew him up and spit him out before breakfast. What gave him the right. (As a little side note I believe I made him cry on possibly more than one occasion because of things he said or did.)

Harassment takes many forms and to my mind bullying and harassment has gotten so much worse since I was a kid. The things my eldest daughter has been subjected to make me so mad and so angry. Sexual harassment has been added into this. The things that some of the boys at school have said and done have meant I have told her that I will stand beside her all the way should she have to use physical means to defend herself or someone else. No it’s not ideal but I will not have her believing she has to sit back and take this crap.

My girls and I all do self-defence, the sheer number of women’s self-defence classes should let us know just how wide this problem stretches. I’ve even gone as far to walk my girls through certain senarios because I’m that concerned about this. My children should not have to know what to do in the event someone tries to attack or rape them. They shouldn’t come home and ask what to do when a boy touches them or makes a sexual comment to them.

I realise there are those who still hold onto the victim blaming culture. I can tell you that there have been times I’ve dressed to accentuate my assests, I do occasionally like to look good but that doesn’t equate to permission. When I was young I dressed that way because as a bullied and somewhat fractured young woman I was simultaneously wanting approval, and society taught me approval comes from sexual appreciation, whilst trying to wrest control of that from the men and boys, to put myself in the driver’s seat. It was to my mind, a variation of the word wall I spoke about in the beginning, it was a way of changing the balance of control.

We build the defences we can and we push a great majority of these things aside and just get on with life. We do this because hitting your head against a wall of those telling you it’s nothing, it doesn’t matter, or to just get over it, gets tiring, not to mention headache inducing. The point though is we shouldn’t have to.

I find it incredibly sad that it has taken the fall of a celebrity to give this movement so much power but by goodness we need to use this momentum while we can to affect the changes we are so desperately in need of. It starts in our homes, work places and schools. It starts across genders. It starts with women not sniping at each other and to stand united. It takes men to understand that, for every time you didn’t believe, didn’t step up for a woman in the multitude of situations you’ve seen, didn’t help when they asked, or dismissed their concerns, that it did damage.

I consider myself a strong woman who certainly knows how to fight her own battles. You know what though? It is tiring. There have been times I’ve wished I simply didn’t have to stand up to a guy whilst other men stood around enjoying the show or ignoring it completely.

We need to come together, the good, the light that is in humanity, I have to believe we can put our egos aside and stand, arm in arm, in the face of inequality (subtle harassment) and the more blatant extremes – words, actions, and all the variations in between, and stare it down. To say NO MORE. That behaviour is no longer acceptable.

United things can be changed, not the past but we can learn.

When A Publishing Plan Goes Wrong

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I’ve wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. There were countless hours spent pounding out stories on an old typewriter at my parents kitchen table. Writing is something I’ve always done, not always in the same format, poetry, stories, plays and novels. Always, however writing.

Being a published author has been a dream, a goal of mine and it is one I have been working towards. I worked at it, I researched it, I networked. I read, voraciously. Then I wrote, and I wrote and I rewrote. Then finally I submitted to a competition, (not the first one I’d ever submitted too and not the first novel I finally finished). Much to my delight I made it through the first cut. Top 40 of 260. The next logical step was to submit to agents and publishers. After which I got a whole lot of nothing and a couple of rejections.

There was no way I was giving up on this, I loved my story, I believed in my story for as much as letting other people read it was terrifying.

The next step I decided on was manuscript assessment. A process no scarier than letting anyone read it, except hopefully if they didn’t hate it they would be able to help me figure out what I could do to improve it. The feedback I got was thankfully positive, I was thrilled that someone else liked my story. The best thing was this was where I got the best piece of advice, ‘it’s really good but a structural rewrite, if you want to put in the effort, will make it great.’ That one suggestion and I finally understood some earlier feedback that had made no sense to me.

This began the biggest part of my journey. I wrote, whenever I could, a scene here a scene there. I added, I took away. It was slow going, very slow going because when you are a wife, and mother as well as juggling work, it can be difficult to find time. Added to that was the fact this wasn’t the only project I was working on, sometimes inspiration for this project simply dried up but other ideas would just flow.

Then I had an amazing breakthrough. I got my version of the elevator pitch with a boutique publisher. Somehow I sold him on my story when I sold him on myself and my work ethic. He asked for what I had, which to be honest was an incomplete and patchy story. This kick started my writing again with vengeance. I wrote, rewrote and edited the first 50 pages and sent it off.

Even with no contract and no solid deadline it lit a fire in my belly. The writing burned through me and the story finally found it’s voice and form. The publisher got back to me and said as soon as I was done he wanted to offer me a contract. You may know how happy I was that day, it was as if everything I had worked for and through had been validated. Working my arse off I got it finished and finally got my contract.

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It would be wonderful if that was the end of the story. If we started editing and my book made it out into the world.

Instead I got

Nothing.

A few months after I signed my contract the publisher decided to go on indefinite hiatus due to stress. This left me in some state of limbo. What could I do, technically I was still in contract and he hadn’t closed the business just said he needed a break. I figured, that was probably a good enough reason to break contract if I needed too so I started putting out feelers again. Not a lot but a few, and there were no bites.

Then, from out of nowhere, when my contract was closer to its end than beginning, the publisher decides to go ahead and send me the first lot of edits, asking me how I would like to go forward. I was hesitant but the lure of publication is strong.

By this time though I had re-edited my story yet again, why not, it can always be improved. So I added his edits and sent off the new version. Then…

Nothing.

I send a message about cover art, because an artist I know has created a beautiful pic for me that I really wanted to use. I get a positive response.

Next thing I know a friend messages me and asks if I’m okay with the fact my publisher has decided to close his doors. That was the first I heard about it, then came the bulk email.

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I was heartbroken and so incredibly angry. I know there were extenuating circumstances, and I truly believe he didn’t mean for this to be the end result but it still felt like a crushing rejection. I ranted, I cried, I poured my frustrations out to an author I admire, who surprisingly answered me with some good advice.

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At this point you realise you have two choices. You either give up or you pick yourself up and push forward. I’m not much of a quitter, this is not something I’d spent a few weeks or months on and had little invested in, this was something I’d been working towards the greater part of my whole life.

Publishing is not an easy industry to break into and with the advances in technology I realised I had another choice; traditional publishing or self-publishing. My heart wanted me to go traditional, that was my dream. To have someone believe enough in my story to want to share it with others. I really wanted to be able to put a book in people’s hands. That path though could mean years of submitting and waiting and most likely a lot of rejections. Self-publishing meant I could get it out there by the time I was originally supposed to be published.

I bit the bullet. I love my story, I believe in myself (sometimes – so it must have been a good self-esteem day I made the decision) and I wanted to go forward rather than sit in a holding pattern indefinitely. I found myself an editor and hit send. I already had the art I wanted for my cover art and I know a wonderfully talented graphic designer who was happy to put the cover together for me.

When my editor got back to me saying that at times it ‘was like reading an already published book’, I couldn’t have been happier. With feedback like that you’d think it would be easy to upload to the e-book site and hit submit. One button and it is all done. That one button though carried a lot of weight, all my hopes and fears resting on one small click. In the end my hubby said ‘just do it,’ and I really had to take that chance on myself.

Publishing is scary, putting yourself out there in such a way opens you up to people you might otherwise hide from. Self-publishing may even be more so because at the end of the day you are the only one who believes in what you have done, it is all on you (friends and family don’t really count here, they are supposed to believe in you and support you).

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This is my journey so far. Not the one I wanted but the one I ended up with. I haven’t made my millions, I haven’t sold 50 copies as yet, but I have had great feedback from a large number of those who have read it. I’ve found some fans and even had my first royalty payment. All of which is better than nothing and better than not taking that chance in the first place.

 

So Many Thoughts

I have so many things spinning around in my head.

Some times it is so confusing in there. There are so many stories floating around at times. It’s difficult to focus on just one. So right now I’m working on a couple of things. First edit of book two is a current big red mess. Well the first 100 pages at any rate.

My other project I’ve not touched whilst I’ve been on leave. Instead I’ve worked on knitting and sewing projects. Creative is creative after all. I quite like doing creative things with my hands there is something incredibly satisfying in it. It is just something I don’t do very often anymore as I have so many things going on.

It can be a very full schedule when you’re a wife, mother, full time employee and a writer. Oh there is also my convention habit.

I love my life, mostly. I guess I just wish things would happen faster. I wish I was already published, I wish certain other things had gone my way and a few other things were different. Things that I don’t need the world to know but that would make my life a little easier.

Part of the problem with the internet is it is so easy to over share. I could complain about the things that have gone wrong, the problems I have, but ultimately what would be the point? Complaining online won’t solve my problems. It may be cathartic in the moment but what can it possibly achieve? It won’t fix anything, it won’t make anything go away. I don’t understand why people do it.

Whining doesn’t help in anyway. You know what does help? Getting on with life. Doing what you are good at. Fix your sights on the goal, pick yourself up out of your pity party and put one foot in front of the other. That is how you get to where you want to be.

Life for most of us is not about the quick fix, it is about the long journey. Sure there are lucky people in life, those for whom things come easy. For the rest of us we work at it. We take one step after another, stopping to recharge, refocus and step again towards that goal we hold so dear.